Better Tomorrow
by don'twaitup
Summary: Monica discovers she is pregnant. S10 MonicaChandler. AU. ABANDONED.
1. Everything Changes

_A/N: This is my first fanfic. Well, I've got nothing to add to that. It's just a warning, really. The title comes from a quote by Dan Quayle- "the future will be better tomorrow."_

_Disclaimer: Friends is not mine. If it was, it'd still be going. _

_Takes place between 10x05 and 10x06. No real reason to mention it, except it's the episode before the adoption storyline really kicks into gear, and the official proceedings start._

When I was a kid, I just expected to have children one day. Like babies materialise out of thin air, or you can buy them from some store. As a child, I didn't think about the technicalities of it all. I thought "I want to get married" and "I want to have children" were the same statement. I thought that you couldn't get pregnant without being married. It wasn't not until 8th grade when one of the only girls that was ever nice to me "fell wrong", as my mom put it at the time, at the age of 14, that I really realized that girls could fall pregnant without even wanting to. If I'd gotten pregnant at 14- quite the miracle, anyway, given that I wouldn't lose my virginity until junior year of college- I would not have considered an abortion. I don't begrudge anyone having one and would never stop someone, but I just could not bring myself to do it, no matter how desperate my situation.

I didn't know what "infertile" meant when I was a child. I didn't realize that some people can't have children. I certainly never considered the fact that you may be in that devastating 2 percent. I never even considered it when I was trying for a baby. It is the most awful thing in the world, finding out you can't have children when that's what you've wanted your whole life.

Before I found out I was infertile, I thought that when I found out I was pregnant, I'd be ecstatic. Jumping up and down like a hyperactive child, running out to tell Rachel and Joey, even before I'd told Chandler. Instead, I daren't move, in case I harm the baby. This is stupid, I know, because the baby is protected by amniotic fluid and it'd take a hard blow to harm the baby. But, still, I feel suddenly fragile, like I'm going to crack if I breathe too hard. The doctor told me that if I ever did get pregnant, due to my "inhospitable environment", it would be a high-risk pregnancy. Basically, even if I defied the odds and got pregnant, the odds were low I'd carry it to term. I know I'm going to take meticulous care of myself from this moment on.

Instead of running out to apartment 19 to scream my news to Joey and Rachel, I commit myself to not telling anyone except Chandler for twelve weeks. That's how long everyone else waits when they've had fertility problems, so that's how long I'm going to wait. It seems pretty reasonable- three months is the end of the first trimester It's going to be hard to hide such major news from them, but it's not going to be the first time that Chandler and I have hid some major news about our relationship, is it? I know they'll understand.

I can't wait for Chandler to come home. Usually, I like a little alone time and treasure the half-hour before he comes home from work. Today, I'm counting the seconds. I try watching TV, but nothing appeals to me. Doing anything but sitting perfectly still is intimating, so I just sit and think. In nine months- less, I don't know how long I've been pregnant- I'm going to have a baby. We're going to have a baby. Finally. I had my baby's names picked out at 14 but that's all changed now. I've realized that nothing is certain and deciding so solidly on something so far from the event is a little stupid. Plus, Rachel's stolen my girl's name, so I'm back to square one on that front.

I'm already thinking. Actually, when I was waiting in the fertility clinic after I found out, I was playing a more-than-slightly masochistic game with myself. I was trying to have a girl's name for every letter of the alphabet. Amber. Bella. Carol. Most people would struggle for X beyond Xena, but not me. While most girls spent their formative years with their noses stuck in Cosmo, I spent mine thumbing through baby names books that I spent my allowance on. I opt for Xylia over Xantara, because the latter sounds too much like a cartoon Ross would watch on a Saturday morning. I have no shortage of ideas. I've already decided that the name is going to be conservative, because I don't want to inflict any extra bullying on the kid if it gets my metabolism and level of self-control. Chandler, I know, is going to suggest crazy names that he will present as a joke, but is deadly serious about but is, ironically, afraid at being laughed at over them. I won't laugh, but I won't take them seriously, either. The Lucys and the Joshes I will think about, but the Liberties and Jetsons will be cast aside without a thought.

I have two models of what the nursery will be like. One for a boy and one for a girl. I really hope the baby's a girl purely for this reason. My planned room- which will likely be almost identical to the real thing- for the girl is so much prettier than the boy's. I tried my best for the boy but I don't really understand boys. Men, I can basically understand. Boys? Not so much. When it comes to the boy's room, I will be having to consult Chandler. Or maybe Joey, given that Chandler's taste is even girlier than mine.

The door opens. He's home. So busy considered the long-term future, I've forgotten about now- how do I say it? "I'm pregnant" sounds like bad news to me. I imagine that nice 14-year-old girl saying that to her parents after she got pregnant by her scumbag of a boyfriend. "I'm with child" sounds so impersonal, like I've been abducted and impregnated by aliens. If I say "We've got a bun in the oven" Chandler is likely to take at face value. So "we're having a baby" will have to do. There's a nice feelings about that one.

"Evening, boys and girls" Chandler greets, frowning when I burst out laughing at how appropriate this token greeting is. "Are you high?"

"No... no. Well, I am, but I'm totally sober. And I'm going to be staying totally sober for a while."

"Should I call for an ambulance?"

I shake my head, grinning widely. "Maybe in a little while."

"I feel like you're implying something. But I don't get it."

"I think you should sit down," I say, patting the spot next to me.

"Okay, now I think somebody's died," he says, then looks like he notices how happy I am. "Somebody's died that you hate, given that you're so happy about it. Is it Janice?"

"No, it's not that," I reply. My throat feels like it's closed in on itself, suddenly. I'm not feeling so blissful now. Saying it aloud, to someone else, is going to confirm it. I don't know why this scares me, it just does. Maybe it's the thought that if only you know, it's a bit of a fantasy, so if you lose it, it won't hurt so much. I have to tell him. This baby is half-his, he has to be allowed to share in either the ecstasy or the devastation of it all. "We're having a baby."

"Whose?" he asks.

Suddenly, I realize that "I'm pregnant", as prosaic as it is, would have been the best. No room for misinterpretation. "No, we're having a baby."

He blinks at me, not daring to comprehend me. "You're pregnant?"

"I'm pregnant," I confirm. I realize that it feels wonderful to say it.

"For definite?"

"I took three tests from three different stores. I mean, I want to get it confirmed by the doctor and everything... but, it's pretty definite."

I've never seen him look this happy before, not even at our wedding. He is smiling from ear to ear. "I thought we were never going to have this."

"But we have."

"This is the first time I've ever wanted to frame a stick with pee on it," he says. "Just so I can tell myself every morning... that it's actually happening."

"Maybe I'll tattoo 'I am pregnant' on my forehead so it'll be the first thing you see every morning."

"I'll pay for it. And the laser surgery you'll have to have after you give birth."

He kisses me there, and strokes his thumb over it. "I can see it now."

"It'll match the "Property of Chandler M. Bing" tattoo on my ass."

"There's an idea. Because, you know, that's actually the first thing I look at every morning."

I smile, and swat his shoulder with one hand. I realize, then, that my other hand is on my stomach, in the universal pose of mothers-to-be everywhere. That's when it hits me, and I start to cry. "Whoa, whoa, what is it? This is happy news!"

"I'm just thinking I don't think I could even... what if we go to the doctor's tomorrow and it's not true?"

He takes a deep breath, as if even considering the possibility is painful."Then we'll be crushed, but we'll get over it," he said. "We'll adopt, like we were planning to. We're going to have a family, whether it comes out of you or not."

I laugh, a little, sniffling. "I wanted this so much, Chandler. Now, I have it, I don't know what to do with it."

"Me too."

He starts to kiss me, and I grab onto his shoulders with all my strength, as if without him, I'd be falling. And I think I would be. He pulls back, and strokes my hair. I lie on his shoulder, and stare at the TV, blank and empty. I think of my womb this way, now filled with life. Life the size of a peanut, but still there's life growing inside of me. I know it is true, I can feel it deep down.

We are having a baby. It's not a question of "whose?", now. This child is going to be ours in every way.

_TBC_

_Please leave a review! It'd make a new author happy._


	2. Time Melts Away

_Author's note: You know how I said this was going to be a one-shot? I kind of lied. Well, not lied, because I intended it to be a one-shot. But then this came to me tonight and I couldn't not write it. And, yes, it's going to be multi-chaptered, with plenty of Monica/Chandler sap. It's going to be so sugary that diabetics should handle with care. I'm kidding. Well, sort of. It is going to be pretty angsty sometimes, too. _

_In case you've forgotten last chapter- Monica discovers that she's pregnant. And that's pretty much all you need to know to follow this chapter. _

The doctor tells us some of the precautions that most pregnant women take are overkill, but most of them don't see why they should risk it. For us, he says, there's already so much risk associated with the pregnancy, he wouldn't be willingly adding any more if he were us. So that means no alcohol, no caffeine, no cigarettes and no drugs- not even legal ones unless they had been prescribed by my doctor while I was pregnant. Dr. Connelly talks like any of these things were worth the risk of losing a baby or hurting it.

I could never understand mothers who smoked during their pregnancies or took drugs- but, then, I've never been a smoker or a drug addict, so I suppose I don't know how hard it is to quit. Presumably, it's easier than watching your child have some horrible disease or suffering from awful withdrawal symptoms that it wouldn't have if you hadn't been so selfish. Still, Chandler said to me his mom smoked ten-a-day all the way through his pregnancy and the only thing it left him with was a deep craving for them himself. I'd think 99 percent of babies who are born to smoking moms are just fine. But what about that 1 percent? How do they live with themselves, knowing they caused their child's pain with their own selfishness?

So, anyway, when Doctor Connelly says "perfectly healthy", I can't quite believe it. Chandler is gaping, a little, too. "Can you-you repeat that?" I ask.

"It looks like an average pregnancy to me," he says, smiling. For a man who delivers so much bad news, "average" must be a little more extraordinary than anything else. For him, "extraordinariness" was only measured in defect. "Now, that doesn't mean that you can be reckless, by any means, but by the looks of things any precautions are just going to be that… precautionary."

"Is there anything else we can do? Apart from giving stuff up?"

"Well, of course, there's always gentle exercise, which helps a lot. Swimming, long walks and such. Eating a lot of Omega 3, which can be found in fish. As ever, lots of fruit and vegetables. I'd recommend cutting out any fast food, though the occasional treat won't hurt. Just… try to live like a saint for the next six months, huh?"

I do a quick sum in my head and realize something doesn't quite add up. "Three months," I say. "I've been pregnant for _three months_?"

"Yes. You're in week fourteen of your pregnancy."

Looks like I'll be telling the gang immediately, then.

"But that's only… three weeks after you said our chance of having kids was rock-bottom."

"Well, I never said impossible, did I?" he says. "You'll find after three decades in this line of work, nothing's impossible."

Something occurs to me, when he mentioned "gentle exercise". "What about… having sex? Is that… will it hurt the baby?" I ask.

"No, though I wouldn't be doing anything _too_ rough-and-tumble."

I smile widely. I can barely restrain myself from tackling the man to the ground and kissing him passionately. "Thank-you, doctor."

"It's so nice to hear that being said sincerely," he says, smiling right back. "Now, any problems… _anything... _any pregnancy-related question that's bugging you… and you contact me, yes? If there's any bleeding or any pain that's not run-of-the-mill, and go to the ER, you hear me? No risks."

"No risks," Chandler repeats. And I nod. Taking risks would be idiotic. It would be like praying to God to heal your STD, having it miraculously healed and going back to sleeping around without protection.

"You know something? I think that fourth-mouth rush of hormones has come early for me."

Chandler's joyful grinning turns wicked. "Yeah?"

"Have you got anything that could help me with my problem, Dr. Bing?"

"I think I do," he whispers, stroking my hair, running his fingers delicately along my features, and then he allows one hand to slip from shoulder to abdomen. The other stays on my face and he kisses me so softly, I think maybe he isn't kissing me at all. I can feel his hand warm against my still-flat stomach. Then I can see it, growing, widening, and this thought doesn't fill me with horror of becoming fat again. It fills me with joy, because, this time, my waist won't be expanding with misery, but with life. Then his kiss deepens and his hand falls from my face.

It is the best sex we've had in weeks. Seventeen weeks, to be exact. Somehow, knowing that sex was essentially fruitless, that it was going to lead to nothing- it took some of the magic out of it. He is remarkably gentle and tender, but there's still desperation in his touch that I can sense a mile off. I bet he hates my stomach being flat, too, because it means there's no real physical evidence I'm pregnant. A jury wouldn't accept hearsay without hard evidence would it? So why should he? His desperation is in proving that it's really true. Unlike me, he can't feel the baby. I can't feel it in the literal sense, it's too early for me to feel the shifting and kicking yet- but fourteen weeks, it won't be long yet- but I know with the certainty that tomorrow will be Thursday that it is there. The baby is still beyond tiny, but will be almost fully developed.

"Monica," he whispers, afterwards. "I _love _you."

He has said those words a lot over the past four months almost to the point of meaningless, but I've never heard them said with so much meaning, so much passion. Maybe because something even more wonderful than the love itself was about to be created. I try to stop the trickle of tears, but I can't.

"You have no idea," I say. "How much I love you. You know what you said, when you proposed? When you said you were gonna spend your whole life trying to make me as happy as you? I think we're about to peak."

"That's impossible," he says. Then he kisses me again so hard I almost forget to breathe and suddenly nothing matters anymore. Time melts away.

_TBC_

_Sorry this is so short and kind of sappy. But I thought that was a too-perfect place to end._

_Please review!_


	3. Not Okay

_Author's note: I think some reader discretion is needed here as there is a particularly disturbing scene- for me, anyway- concerning miscarriage. If this something that's currently affecting you, I recommend skipping over this chapter, as I'd imagine it's fairly brutal for someone who's experienced this. Also? Here endeth the fluff. _

"_Monica. Monica."  
_

"_What? What is it?"_

_I smell the bitter scent of iron. It stings my nose. "You're bleeding," Chandler says, as if he is saying I have lipstick on my teeth. _

_I check my face and my arms, even though that's not where he is looking. "No, I'm not."_

_He guides my head downwards, to my huge stomach, and I can't see anything beyond the bump. "Can't you feel it?"  
_

_I shake my head. A part of me knows I should be panicking but I'm numb to the whole thing. "I can't feel anything. Shouldn't it hurt?"_

"_It should," he says. "But maybe it doesn't hurt when you know it's going to happen. Maybe it's the shock that makes it hurt so much. It's not like we weren't expecting this to happen." _

"_That's true." _

"_Do you want something to eat?" he asks, as our baby is dying. _

"_Yeah. That would be great. Just make sure to wash the dishes afterward."_

"_I will if you promise to wash the sheets," he replies and he kisses me, briefly. _

_I didn't know it was possible to bleed this much, it runs rivers over the bed. I think that it's going to take a lot of bleach. Putting my hand between my legs, I'm not surprised when it comes back covered in blood, but I shrug and rub my hand on the sheet- it's going to get washed anyway. I sit and stare at the door blankly for a while, under it bursts open, the room suddenly filled with the exuberance of Rachel. _

_She sits down beside me on the bed, totally oblivious to the blood. "Oh my God, you're so not going to believe this, you know Terri, from Human Resources?"_

"_Rach, I think I'm losing the baby." _

"_Oh," she says, giving the blood staining my bed a cursory glance. "So, anyway, she totally had a nose job, right? One of her nostrils is the size of Jupiter, swear to God. Monica, are you even listening to me?"_

"_Yeah, sure, nose job."_

"_It's like you don't even care."_

"_Sorry, your gossip is running a little thin right now."  
_

"_I wasn't talking about the nose job, Monica."_

* * *

"Monica? Monica!" Chandler says, and he is shaking me. I start, and grab hold of his shoulder, which makes him jump. "Honey, what is it?"

"I was… having a dream," I whisper.

"I could tell. What about?"

"It was horrible. I was… I was losing the baby…"

"Oh, God, Monica."

"No, that's not the horrible part. I mean, obviously, but… we didn't care. You and me, we didn't care. Rachel was there and she didn't, either."

"Monica, that is never going to happen."

"I know, but… what if we get so caught up in expecting it to go wrong, we don't have time to think about what happens if it goes right? I mean, we've known about this for a week, now, and you know something? We haven't talked about names, about how we're going to decorate the nursery, about how we're going to tell everyone… we've talked about risks and how we're going to cope if we lose the baby… but we're just talking about our child like it's… not even real. Just potential. We haven't talked about what happens in week thirty-six. Just what happens week-by-week."

"Do you realize how much it hurts me to consider the possibility of losing this baby?" he asks. "Do you realize that I'd _much _rather be talking about cribs and baby clothes and the colour of the wallpaper? But we _can't_, because we've gotta make sure that there's going to be a baby to name and dress up."

"Why? Are you scared to name the baby in case something goes wrong?"

"Yes! Don't you think it's going to be harder to see little baby Lucy or Jamie lying there…" he trails off, swallow hard.

"Than what? A foetus?" I ask. "No matter whether it's eight cells or getting ready for senior prom, this is still going to be out child. Nothing is going to make it harder to lose, Chandler. Whether it's called "Baby Girl Geller-Bing" or "Lucy Geller-Bing", it is still going to be our baby dying. And don't you think we should live for the possibility that, maybe, just maybe, my womb isn't so completely _inhospitable_ that I can carry this baby to term?"

"I just…"

"I'm going over to see Rachel," I say, angrily, and I leave him sitting on the bed, his head in his hands.

I wipe my face, smooth down my clothes and try to look as fine as possible. I push the door open, surprised to find it locked. It's earlier than I thought. I knock, loudly, the thought of going back across the hall, tail between my legs, fills me with dread. I consider going to Ross, Phoebe, even my mom_- _this is the one issue she might actually sympathise with me on, she tried six years for Ross and the doctors back then told her the chances of having a baby were practically zero, too- in the minute it takes Rachel to come to the door.

After taking one look at my face, her slight irritability- Rachel is _never _going to be a morning person- fades into deep concern. So much for my "I'm going to pretend everything's fine" plan. Apparently pretending to be "fine" is not something Gellers excel at. Rachel can be so perceptive when you don't want her to be. "Honey, what is it?"

"Can I tell you later? I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Of course, Mon," she says and she leads me to the couch. I don't cry- I'm too drained to- but she lets me lie on her lap and she strokes my hair. I don't know how long we're there but I'm sure it's starting to get uncomfortable for her by the time she speaks again. "Whatever it is, I know it's going to be fine."

"But if you don't know what it is, how do you know?"

"I just do. Things always work out in the end," she says. "You'll see."

"Chandler and me kind of had a fight… except it wasn't really a fight, because we were in agreement, but…" I say and realize it's incredibly hard to describe without specifics. "I just… it's stupid."

"Nothing that has you this upset could be stupid."

"I had a dream and it left me totally rattled… and I guess I kind of vented at Chandler, even though he was just trying to make me feel better."

"Dreams are just thoughts, Mon," she says. "The dream won't have told you anything you didn't already know… or think. It'll just be a bit of a shock to the system to have to… live through it, sort of. In a dream, you're not dreaming until you wake up, are you?"

"No," I say, and realize she's right. I'd already had these feelings- the fear of losing the baby was nothing compared to my fear of losing the baby and feeling nothing. It was just a matter of realizing how much my fear had taken over me.

"Now you go over there and you apologize to him," Rachel tells me. "Whatever you're going through, I'm 99 percent positive he's going through it, too."

"I doubt it, somehow," I reply.

Concern clouds her features again. "Oh my God, you're dying, aren't you?"

Just the opposite, I think, with a smile. "I'm not dying, Rach."

"Good, 'cause I'd miss you."

"Death is for wusses," I say and hope the baby has inherited my competitiveness. Nothing will spur my baby on like the threat of being called a "wuss" if it is anything like me. I sit up, filled with renewed energy. I give Rachel a tight hug and stand up to go home.

"What's wrong with her?" I hear Joey ask before I leave.

"I don't know," she replies. "I think maybe Chandler told her she was fat."

* * *

I smile. It fades, a little, when I realize she knows what's wrong with me, she's just respecting my wish not to talk about it. Then it spreads across my face again.

"Chandler?" I call out, hoping he hasn't decided to take off, as he tends to do in difficult situations. "You here?"

"I'm in here," he calls back.

I head towards the guest bedroom. When I find him, he is sat on the floor, with his legs crossed and a book on his knees. When I see what it is, I gasp. The book I'd had since I was fourteen and started after I found out about that nice girl- Louise or Leanne, I don't remember- aborting her baby. That had been when I'd started to cut out choice pieces from magazines, had a "top ten" list of names, which changed weekly and had sketchy drawings of my nurseries. "Where did you find it?"

"You mentioned something about losing it after we got back from Barbados," he says. "And since it's totally unlike you to misplace something, especially something this special to you, I figured it must have been something you'd hidden when you were upset about the whole thing. Then I thought, where would Monica hide something if she was upset?"

I noticed the way it was covered with a thin film of dust, how it smelt a little of musk. "The closet," I reply. Of course. I remember. I threw it in there after we got the results back because I didn't see the point of having it. Before we decided to adopt and then I was so upset, I didn't remember.

"You were a very specific teenager, weren't you?"

"I had a lot of time on my hands," I reply, looking to the floor. It had been one of my more exciting activities apart from seeing how many Ding-Dongs I could eat in minute or watching _Cheers_, which I didn't even like that much, but Rachel insisted it was essential viewing.

"Clearly," he says. "Monica, this is wonderful, you know that?"

"I put a lot of effort into it," I say, touching the fringes of it gingerly. "I always thought me having children was a given. Well, if I ever found anyone to have them _with_."

"Look at this," he says, pointing to the page with the plans of the nurseries. "It's like you knew you were going to be living here. It looks exactly like the guest room."

I frown at him. "Chandler, honey, we're not going to be living here with a _baby_," I say.

"We're… not?"

"C'mon, Manhattan's disease-ridden and a child's immune system isn't totally developed until they're eight!" I say. "We don't have a garden or a play area or… anything. The city's not a great place to bring up kids, Chandler… it's too fast. You have to grow up too fast here. I want my kid to have…"

"You mean the suburbs," he cuts me off, distastefully.

"Well… yeah. I know you hate the suburbs, but you had such a dysfunctional family, our family isn't going to be dysfunctional."

"My family being full of weirdos isn't why I hate the suburbs," he replies. "It's just so not me. I'm never going to be the sort of dad who coaches soccer and you… well, I can't see you in the soccer mom role, can you?"

"It's just a place, it's not a personality transplant."

"It might as well be," he mutters. "Look, Mon, I understand you don't want our kid to grow up in Manhattan, okay? You have a point. But I really, _really _don't want to move to the suburbs."

I don't show any of my irritation, although there is plenty of it. It's not him I'm irritated with. I'd be just as adverse to the idea of staying here, after all, if he asked me to. "Anyway, what do you think of the rooms?"

"I like the girl's one the best."

"I do, too," I reply. "Do you want it to be a girl?"

"I don't know," he says, excitedly. "I mean, I'd love a little guy to play soccer with, even if he could beat me by the age of two and go fishing with and watch him play tennis or basketball or whatever sport he plays. But a girl… I kind of like the _idea_ of a girl better. Even if people of the double-X variety tend to sort of… hate me."

"Admit it, you just like the thought of having a Daddy's little girl."

"Guilty as charged," he admits, with a broad smile. "Plus, with a girl, I won't have to pretend that I've gone through exactly what she's going through. What about you? What do you want?"

"I think I want a girl, too," I reply. "But even if it's a boy, I'm going to be overjoyed. Even if I don't know how to cope with a boy."

"I don't know how to cope with _babies_, period."

"I don't know. You seem okay with Emma."

"Because I can give Emma back to Rachel after she spits up," he replies. "Babies that don't go back… no idea."

"Yeah, I don't have much experience with that myself," I say. "We'll learn."

"It better be a pretty sharp learning curve."

"It is," I reply. "It's called _natural instincts_."

"You can't walk for a year," he says. "Shouldn't that come naturally?"

"Actually," I say. "If you place a newborn on the ground and support its head, it will walk. It's a reflex you're born with but you just sort of forget it after a couple of months and have to relearn it. Really young babies will swim, too."

"Why do we have to relearn it? It seems kind of pointless."

"To make sure we're doing it right. And being good parents is something you're born with, too. You just have to relearn it."

"Yeah, you see tons of week-old-babies playing mom."

"You've never seen a two-year-old girl trying to carry around a newborn sibling? Looks kind of maternal to me."

"So why are there so many god-awful parents around?"

"Because you have to work hard to relearn something," I say "Some parents don't put the work into being parents that they need to."

"And maybe some parents just _naturally _suck at being parents, no matter how much they try."

"Maybe," I say. "But we're not those parents."

"_You're_ not."

"_Sucky _dads do not search the depths of hell to find some scrap book their wife made when they were in eighth grade."

"Depths of hell?"

"My nickname for the closet," I clarify. "They just don't."

He closes the book and hands it to me, before standing up and helping me stand up, as if I'm already incapable of doing it myself. I don't mind. "Keep it somewhere safe this time, okay?"

"Never losing this again."

Chandler places his hands on my stomach and I put my hands over his. The book falls to floor, completely forgotten. "Way to go," Chandler says, laughing. I smile down at the book, shaking my head. I lean over to pick it up and put it on the top shelf in the guest room's closet. I push the book so it's securely in the closet, then I close the door.

"Chandler, about this morning, I'm really s…"

"Don't," he says. "I understand. You were freaked-out, upset. I was, too."

"Yeah, I was. It still wasn't an excuse to lose it with you like that," I tell him. "I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," he says, making it perfectly clear that he thinks there's nothing to forgive.

* * *

_TBC_

Please review- it really does inspire me to write faster.


	4. Breaking Mirrors

_A/N: Incredibly sorry it's taken me- nearly three months- so long to update. But I have genuinely been busy with RL. I hope it's worth the wait, anyway. _

I keep having dreams. None are as awful as the ones where I don't care, but they're bad enough. There's one, in particular- a sort of recurring dream. I say "sort of" because it's not exactly the same- but it's a recurring motif. I lose the baby- _literally_ lose the baby, like you would misplace an earring or a DVD- and no-one will help me. No-one even notices the baby is missing because they never knew the baby was born. Chandler occasionally will look under the sofa, behind the door, in the closets- asking the whole time what sort of mother loses her baby, anyway- and comes up empty-handed. I cry my eyes out and Rachel- or Ross or Joey or Phoebe- will ask what the problem is. I tell them. They always reply, condescendingly, that I don't have baby and never will. This, rather unsurprisingly, doesn't make me feel any better. I always wake up, fumbling to touch my slight bump, make sure it's still there. There is always a feeling of loss. And a one of guilt, but that feeling has nothing to do with the baby.

Chandler has been saying since we found out that we should tell everyone- he can barely contain his excitement. I've told my mother, just to shut her up about the lack of grandchildren on my part- though how she quite keeps herself from telling Ross, I'll never know - while Chandler refuses to tell his, as his mother will insist on _visiting_ and his father will send little pink garments, regardless of the sex of the baby. Everyone else we know has no idea. I know I'll have to tell _Alessandro's _soon, so I can book my maternity leave, but I'm dreading doing even that. Never mind telling the people I love most in the world. I like it being a secret, in a way- it reminds me of the beginning of our relationship. It has to be done, but it feels like going against a superstition. I've never broken a mirror in my life, and this feels like the secret equivalent of that. It's ridiculous, but it feels like bad luck. We've had enough of that for one lifetime, I think. Part of me remembers how I screamed my engagement from the rooftops- well, the balcony- and feels a little ashamed.

"Chandler..." I say and it feels like there is something lodged in my throat.

"Yes, Mommy?"

"I've told you to stop saying that. It's creepy."

"What is it, Monny?"

"That's even creepier," I reply, fake-shuddering. "I was thinking..."

"Always a terrible thing when you're pregnant. It's bad for your fragile pregnant neurons."

"Shut up. Look, I think we should tell everyone."

His eyebrows shoot up, his smile broadens. "Really? When?" he pauses, his eyes narrowing. "Unless you're thinking of running off and telling them over the _phone_?"

"This week. And running away doesn't solve anything," she says. "Unless you approve..."

"I don't."

"Okay, then. How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Let's get it out there. Get it over with. Everyone's gonna be mad at us if we keep it any longer."

"They're gonna be mad we didn't tell them at the moment of conception."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure Rachel _saw _the moment of conception."

"We were idiots to get adjoining rooms."

"Never again."

* * *

Gathering everyone together is harder than it used to be. Phoebe is practically Mike's Siamese twin since the proposal, Ross is either with Charlie or teaching, Joey and Rachel are buried in work. Stuff is already changing, I realize. Everyone's growing-up, anyway- this revelation isn't going to tear everything apart. The gang is drifting apart, already. Chandler and I getting married and Rachel having Emma barely changed anything. It's just that this announcement is conveniently timed at a time when everyone is off, having lives, so it feels more group-altering than it actually is. The nerves won't go away, though. My hands are shaking the tiniest bit.

Everyone gets here eventually. They sit, with the anxious expressions of someone who has not used a coaster when putting a drink down. I only called a meeting for that _once_. Well, I say "they"- Phoebe and Ross look concerned. Rachel looks content, but slightly smug, and Joey seems unconcerned with the whole thing. It's possible that Joey doesn't know anything about it, but his ignorance seems a little forced. He is an awful actor and Rachel is a terrible secret-keeper, which isn't the best of combinations when you're trying to keeps secrets. I try to stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Okay, Chandler and I..." I pause, for a moment, and Rachel's tiny smile widens. "Chandler and I got you guys here to tell you... we're having a baby."

The room explodes with noise- that's the only way to describe it. It goes from complete silence except my voice to yells of joy and congratulations and- I'm pretty sure- Rachel whispering "I told you so". Everyone is hugging me and Chandler, before I warn them that it's probably not good for the baby, so they resort to hugging Chandler twice as hard and Joey lifts him off the ground with his happiness. I feel a little sick from it all- my head is swimming from the noise and joy. I creep out unnoticed while Chandler is loudly explaining how we're having a "miracle baby"- which is a bit of an exaggeration, but one that I'll allow. I go to the balcony, with no temptation to shout it off. I'm tempted to flail my arms about a bit so this is what it looks like, but I haven't the energy. Instead, I slump against the window, with my arms wrapped protectively around my stomach. It takes five minutes before anyone realizes I'm gone. Normally, I'd be insulted, but with all the excitement, I don't mind. Besides, it's nice to be out here, away from all the noise and fuss. Which is something I never thought I'd say.

"Mon?" It's Rachel. "What're you doing out here? It's freezing."

I haven't noticed. "I just... it was too much."

"I get it. You know, as the pregnancy wears on you get less and less able to deal with social situations. It's true. I swear, without a bit of restraint, I would've literally bitten Ross's head off at the end of the pregnancy."

"It's not just that. I just feel like I've been thrown in the pool at the deep end."

"And I wasn't?" Rachel exclaims, incredulously. "You were married and _trying _for a baby."

"Are we playing "Whose pregnancy is worse?" Because you win!"

"I'm just saying," Rachel says, carefully, "that I understand what you're going through."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry... just... overwhelmed."

"I know you're scared, Mon."

"I'm not scared of having a baby. I've wanted a baby since I was fourteen."

"Yeah. You're scared of losing one," she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Everyone knows, now, so if you lose the baby, it's going to hurt everyone- not just you and Chandler."

I hang my head, to avoid her eye. "I'm not going to lose a baby."

"You don't believe that," she says, her voice still barely a caress of breath against my ear. "Mon, have a little faith. Trust me, people like you and Chandler... it always works out in the end. It has to work out."

The certainty in her voice is extremely reassuring. She's right. I hate it when she's right. "Did you know?"

"What? That you'd be scared? I'm not psychic, Mon."

"You know what I mean. When I came over, upset over Chandler a couple of days ago... did you know?"

"Um, sort of. I guess... I got the feeling."

"You told Joey, didn't you?"

"He tortured it out of me! He threatened to make me watch the Die Hard trilogy. And I knew you'd be telling us eventually and I couldn't go through that again, Mon! I just couldn't."

I smile. "I understand. Chandler got out of housework for a week using that."

"Only a week? God, you're a stronger woman than me."

"I hid the DVDs. Let's just say, I got to put my feet up for a couple of weeks. Relatively speaking. He can't do anything _right_..."

"You ended up doing it all, didn't you?"

"It made my vein come out, Rach! My forehead vein is _not _attractive."

Rachel chuckles. "Are you coming in? Everyone's calmed down now."

"Just give me a minute."

"Yeah. Mon, it _is _going to be all right."

I look out into the dark night. I wish there were stars on the New York skyline to wish on- not that it helps, but it would be nice. "Yeah, I know."

TBC

_Sorry for the short chapter. I just really, really needed to get back into the spirit of things and get this up. Sorry about the lack of Mondler in this one- plenty in the next part to make up for it! Oh, and thanks to all the people who have favourited this story and/or have it on alert. Thank-you! Though, I would like it if you're favouriting/alerting it to review, just to say what you liked about it. Most people did, but a couple didn't and I'd love to hear their opinions on it! But, to be honest, I've gotten a lot more reviews than I thought I would, and I'm so, so happy to receive them. I do read them all and appreciate it SO much. _

_By the way, if anyone has any requests for one-shot fics- I'm bored and have got way too much time on my hands. I will write any pairing (no slash, though- I've got nothing against it, I just can't write it) and any friendship. Just for some inspiration! _


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